Ron Weasley's Seven Christmas Stocking Memories
by The Steppy One
Summary: Written for the Holiday prompt of 'Christmas Stockings' for the helmet fest2008 closer over on LiveJournal.


**Seven memories Ronald Weasley has of Christmas Stockings.**

**::coughs:: It would have been ten but he ran out of time! ::coughs::**

**One:** Ron's first proper memory of a Christmas Stocking is him being entirely confused by the concept of only having one stocking. This wasn't him being greedy, it was just the fact that he iknew/i that socks came in twos and that there was definitely only one stocking with a letter R on it. In fact everyone only seemed to have one stocking. What confused him even more was the fact that it seemed entirely too big for his foot. He spent a long time sitting in front of the fireplace looking up at his stocking and then down at his orange sock-clad foot. He was then struck by an epiphany as he remembered George hopping around with his legs locked together. Maybe you wore this stocking when that happened to you. Yes, that made sense, two feet would fit inside these stockings much better than one. Of course, by the time Christmas morning came around, he had forgotten his bafflement, and by the time he had finished playing with his new presents and the thought of the stocking came round again, it was no where to be seen. Maybe he could test his theory out next year.

**Two:** Ron's funniest memory of a Christmas Stocking was when he was ten years old. Earlier in the year, Zonko's Joke Shop had released a paste, that when painted along two surfaces which then were put together, but were often pulled apart - cupboard doors, biscuit jars, desk drawers, that sort of thing - there was an explosion of coloured sparks, powder and glitter that would generally cover the person who opened whatever object had been painted. Naturally Fred and George had managed to bribe a couple of third years to buy them an ample supply from Hogsmeade and one week of the previous summer holidays had been both very entertaining and very annoying. After the fifth day of various family members being covered head to toe in brightly coloured powder and glitter, Molly had, in as literal way as possible, exploded with rage and demanded the twins open every single drawer, cupboard and jar in the entire house in front of her own eyes to prove that all the paste had reacted and was, therefore, gone. Ron had laughed until his sides hurt at the sight of them after they had gone through the entire house, but it was nothing on what would happen the following Christmas.

Ron could understand why they hadn't got rid of the remaining paste they had, it had cost them money after all and one day may have come in useful. However, no one in the family could've known that they would play the exact same trick on the other. There had been an argument a couple of days before Christmas, Ron had heard shouting for a good five minutes before their mother had quietened them down with her own shouts. Ron didn't think on the argument any longer, until both their stockings were opened simultaneously and both stockings exploded with powder, sparks and an absolute ton of glitter. Once the family had recovered from the very loud bang, had determined that neither of the twins were dead - they were out cold on the floor - everyone had a right good laugh about the whole thing. They carried on with their stocking opening and when they had finished thought it mean to leave the twins there, still unconscious. On revival they shouted at each other but couldn't help but grin at the state of themselves and their mirror image.

Neither of them was amused, however, when they couldn't remove the very large amount of powder and glitter. On reading the small print on the jar, they discovered the paste did in fact have an expiry date and a strong suggestion that only a small amount of paste be used. Needless to say the twins had ignored this fact and not even noticed the best before date on the jar.

**Three:** The saddest memory Ron had of Christmas Stockings was when there was one less stocking hanging from the fireplace than there should have been. The Christmas after the war was the strangest Christmas. At one point he thought it had been the worst but there was one Christmas still fresh in his memory that had been horrible to endure. Not that the slight tension, the hidden tears and over-cheery expressions were pleasant, in a way they were celebrating that out of such a large family, all but one of their number were alive and had survived the war and able to swap presents as was tradition.

He didn't like to think about that Christmas too much, there had been many since that had been so much better, once the hurt had been replaced with laughter and only the very occasional tear.

The lack of Fred's stocking hurt, but soon enough there were more stockings to add to the fireplace, new names that reminded us that life goes on and we are fools to not live the lives we fought for.

**Four:** He could never think about that first Christmas without Fred without thinking about the Christmas previous. He had been safe and warm and hated every second of it. Bill had asked him if he wanted him to go and get his stocking from the Burrow to put with his and Fleur's but he had refused. He didn't deserve Christmas, not while he was safe when Harry and Hermione weren't. That was the reason he had woken up ridiculously early that Christmas morning, in fact he wasn't sure whether it was still Christmas Eve or not. He'd had a nightmare that had involved Death Eaters and his two best friends. It took him a few minutes to clear his head and remember where he was and why.

He sat for a little longer, just trying to think of anything that could help him get back to them. He had subconsciously taken hold of the Deluminator and it was on the fifth time of him activating the device that he heard her voice. And then he heard his. And his heart was pounding and he needed to do something! He looked out the window and although he had no idea what the light that was hovering was or was for, he knew he could trust it.

He didn't care that he had no presents or no stocking, getting back to them would make his Christmas. He just had to find them.

**Five:** The most disturbing memory involving Christmas stockings was when he saw his mum and dad lying in front of the fireplace and the family stockings doing things he didn't understand at the time. Once he had learned to understand exactly what his mum and dad had been doing, he decided that he would never, ever mention this to anyone, EVER and would put the memory to the back of his mind. He even seriously considered performing a memory charm on himself, but didn't want to risk buggering it up along with his mind.

Maybe when he was older he wouldn't have such an issue with it.

Maybe.

**Six:** His most emotional memory, though he will never admit it to anyone other than Hermione, was when he hung up the smallest of stockings next to his and his wife's. Rose had been born three months earlier and it was her first Christmas. Hermione had asked him to hang her stocking from their fireplace and he knew she was watching him from the door to the lounge. He didn't mind when she walked up to him and hugged him from behind. He turned in her arms and allowed her to wipe the tear that had fallen down his cheek.

He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying - he had never felt so happy. He saw tears fill Hermione's eyes but wasn't concerned, she was smiling and happiness radiated off her.

They held each other for what seemed like hours, and only pulled away when Rose's cry broke through the silence.

'I'll see to her,' he had said and he left the room, looking back to see his beautiful wife standing and stroking the stockings hanging on the fireplace, one by one.

He had never been happier.

**Seven** He had finally got old, he decided, because the memory of his mum and dad doing certain things in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve no longer made him close his eyes tightly and try to think of something else entirely. He understood why it was so romantic, what the attraction was of making love to the person you loved more than anything in the world, in front of a roaring fire.

Of course, the fact that he had walked into the room, after eventually managing to get two very excited children to bed, and found his wife dressed in nothing but her most sexy red underwear and a pair of stockings may have added to the understanding of why _this_ was such a good idea.

He struggled to concentrate on anything but Hermione. They were taking their time, he loved it when they took their time making love, apart from prolonging everything he most enjoyed, it also meant he had more opportunity to stare into her eyes, something he could do for hours every day if he was only given the opportunity.

He paused when he felt Hermione seize up underneath him.

'What?' he asked, concerned.

'Thought I heard a child.'

'Oh! Okay.'

He carried on as he was before the interruption. He heard Hermione giggle.

'Ron! I think one of them is up! What if they come down here?'

'Then they'll peep in the door, see we're busy and then go back upstairs!'

'And possibly scar them for life!' Hermione said with raised eyebrows.

'Believe me, they'll get over it and one day will understand perfectly.'

Before giving his wife the chance to argue, he kissed her until he felt her relax again. As it happened, he didn't hear any other footsteps, but could have sworn he felt a small draught around his…ankles at one point.

As he said, he was definitely getting old, and possibly becoming a sap, because he could think of nothing better than making love to his wife on Christmas Eve, surrounded by Christmas stockings, of varying forms.


End file.
